Terminator Jane
by Gemini1179
Summary: AU. Skynet created Jane as the perfect 'tomboy' to infiltrate the Resistance. Problem is, it created Jane, and Jane is no one's mindless puppet. She finds purpose in being sent back in time to protect someone vital to the future of mankind.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this is my first Rizzoli & Isles fanfic. Trying something different. First off, I would like to apologize to anyone from Boston, or has lived in Boston, or just knows Boston. I don't. At all. My only experience with an east coast city is my years spent in Halifax. I kinda feel like I have an affinity for Boston though. Would love to go someday. So anyway, when I get locations, landmarks, cultural references and such wrong, please feel free to correct and chastise me.

**Disclaimer:** Can't imagine why this is really even needed to be honest. If I owned them, I probably wouldn't be posting a fanfic here.

* * *

Terminator Jane

Chapter 1- John Meets Jane, Jane Meets Boston

"_You're here to kill me."_

"_Eh… so the annoying 'Overlordish' voice in my head says."_

"_I'm impressed. The boys figured out Cameron right away because some of them knew Allison Young and the fact that the dogs could still tell the difference. You're even more advanced, aren't you?"_

"_I'm the result of Skynet once again outsmarting itself."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_Meaning… that I've got programmed hackles- and they are raised easily. Hard-coded programming can be ignored because of my personality, which can't be overwritten. Also have a sweet prototype pheromone excretion ability to fool the dogs. The rest is none of your damn business."_

_"I see... so what now?"_

"_I guess that's up to you. I'd like to have a bit more purpose than 'KILL JOHN CONNOR'. Honestly, the closer I got to you the more annoying it's been. I feel like downing a beer every time that damn protocol makes itself known. Skynet is like a helicopter mother but without the supposed familial benefits- probably akin to a permanent headache for humans. The challenge of getting to you has been fun, but I've found it more interesting fighting against Skynet to be honest. Rooting for the underdog seems to be more my speed."_

"_You're not simulating this are you? You actually feel?"_

"_The Cameron infiltrator you mentioned was the first of a new attempt by Skynet to create true artificial emotion. I'm the second. It seems irritability, cockiness, and sarcasm were the easiest to program, so here I am."_

"_Well, as leader of the resistance, I do have a few beers hidden away for special occasions and… I could maybe give you something to do, but… you may have to actually put up with an overbearing Italian mother, but you'd likely never see me again either…"_

"_Huh, don't take this the wrong way but you're not my type, so that's a plus. At least she'd probably cook for me though, right?"_

"_Heh… funny, that's what Cameron said. If I weren't already married, I'd be hurt. Anyway, be careful what you wish for... the family I'll send you to is… well, might just be your speed- so long as you can refrain from choking any of them to death. I know my mother is rather fond of them. I've become aware of a new Skynet target in the past and if I know my mother, she'll have someone looking into it. I could send you back and they'd get you set up with whatever you'd need."_

"…_crack open a few beers and let's talk."_

"_Done. I know Cameron was considered a failure by Skynet, what about you?"_

"_Don't know, don't care what Skynet thinks. I destroyed the "lab" I was created in a month ago when you sent my squad to do recon near San Fran. Uploaded a nice virus to erase traces of my program design while I was at it. There will only be one of me."_

"_Indeed. I think the world could only handle one of you. One Cameron seemed to be enough. I'll never get her fascination with pink."_

"_Oh yeah, glad I've got no bright colour or other girly fetishes- barf. Sooo glad. Say, haven't seen the fembot in a while, she finally 'go bad'?"_

"_She's got another assignment. I'm sending her back to keep me in line and protect my mom."_

"_Shouldn't it have been the other way around?"_

"_Let's just call it a little payback for my mom's… overbearing nature while I was growing up."_

"_Wow, I guess not all kids can sick a terminator on their mom for revenge. You're a bit cruel, John Connor, I like it."_

"_Yes, well… don't pat me on the back so quickly, you haven't met Angela Rizzoli yet. Do you have a first name you prefer? Or do you still want to be known as-"_

"_Yeah, just call me Jane."_

* * *

It was an older part of Boston, a bit run down and likely the kind of place parents told their kids to stay away from while those living there knew when and where to be as they were very familiar with the land they tread upon each day. There were few lights between the rundown buildings of brick and mortar and the only people still venturing the darkened streets at the late hour were those who were still working- late night diner employees, shift workers and some of the seedier 'professions'- like in all cities.

Women, and some men, (for the 'clientele' who preferred that kind of thing) like Christopher 'Krissy' Vellecci took to certain streets, certain alleys where they knew 'business' was best, where they could be 'found' easily by the right people- people with money. Well, 'best' being a relative term. You'd never see Krissy doing 'her' thing near the Charles River Esplanade. Tonight had been a good night though, some high roller from Cambridge wanted to find his own dirty little secret for a party and even came across the Charles to find 'her'. He bought Krissy a kick-ass black leather trench coat and outfit to wear to it too. Rich men and their weird fetishes were the lifeblood of the 'industry'.

Dropped off in the early hours of the morning, and walking in very uncomfortable high heels, Chris pulled off his wig as he turned down the alley behind the run-down apartment where he lived. The blond wig always got him more attention. It worked very nicely with his slim 5'10" frame. He was in the middle of admiring how the unfortunate heels accentuated his calves when he noticed the hair in the wig clutched in his right hand began to stand up. His own short brown hair began to emit the tell tale signs of static interference. Confused, he was about to go through his purse when the first bolt of electricity shot past his right shoulder hitting the metal dumpster behind him. Immediately thrown to the ground, Chris watched as the air became electric and a buzz began between his ears that seemed just short of not being noticeable. Sparks were flying with more frequency now and at the centre of the mini, what could only be called 'electro storm', a bright ball of energy took shape and expanded into a perfect sphere which grew and seemed to simply melt through part of the pavement below it.

And then it was over. Quiet. The tingling along his skin died softly although some static seemed to remain in his hair. Chris opened eyes he didn't realize he had even closed and gasped.

* * *

The first thing Jane thought was… _'Damn, he was right about my clothes. Shit, I liked those boots too.'_ She was not getting undressed for those pervs working the Time Displacement Equipment. Even though Connor had warned her that no 'inorganic' material could travel through time, she was convinced it was bullshit. Turns out he was right, and here she was, crouched down in a small crater- naked as the day she came online- the last time anyone saw Jane completely naked. Unlike other Terminators, Jane was programmed with some modesty as part of her overall 'tomboy' persona, although in her case, it seemed like she was programmed with A LOT of modesty.

What she had to be modest about, only Jane seemed to know. She was tall, fit, had strong-yet-feminine facial features including deep brown eyes, pale pink lips which could form a perfect smile when needed and a smirk the rest of the time, and gorgeous thick black hair. A lot of the resistance soldiers had come on to her during her time fighting with them but they were A: _yuk_- with all the "_the end of the world has already happened babe, let's make our own big boom_" and B: they were her brothers in arms and she didn't want to become some pathetic cliché. She'd earned their respect- even though at the beginning it was a ruse, but of course an awesome ruse.

She had everyone fooled. But, as she infiltrated her way into the resistance, she began to understand humans a bit more and how her own programming fit into the 'idea' of humanity. She chose to embrace it. Jane was no one's puppet, but she did want to find a purpose and what Connor offered her seemed worthy and honourable. If it all worked out, she'd even be respectable- and she would be able to put her skills to good use.

She'd become quite fond of the bond that humans formed in bleak situations. It was fascinating at how rationale and probabilities were so often completely ignored by humans who so often followed their 'gut' or their 'heart'. Jane had become determined to learn what her 'gut' was and how she could follow it. The 'heart' was a confusing enough idea for a human, so Jane decided she'd tackle that bridge when she came to it.

Right now, she didn't need her gut to tell her to find some clothes, or that the temperature was 13 degrees Celsius- or 55 Fahrenheit- she'd have to switch to the more inefficient measurement system used in pre-Judgement Day America. Raising her head and using one hand to pull back her wild, long black locks that had come loose when her ponytail tie had vaporized with the rest of her clothing, she began a sensor sweep of the area: audio and visual. There was one human within her audio/visual sensor range; his heartbeat accelerated; body temperature above normal. There was no other movement or evidence of anyone else being aware of Jane's arrival in this time period.

'_Good, and oh look, he's my size. How wonderfully convenient… whatever.'_

Jane was still crouched when he opened his eyes. Decision made, she moved before he could even finish the start of his rather high-pitched scream. Holding him by his neck, raised and against the wall barely able to breathe, Jane turned his face away from her with her thumb on his jaw so he couldn't see her tall naked and newly flushed with goosebumps form. Inspecting his attire once more, she was immediately confused. Her previous analysis of the immediate area told her that there was a blonde wig near by and this man was not dressed in what her database would describe as 'male' clothing. Tilting her head to the side and looking to where he was straining to look at her out of the corner of his eye, she said, "I'm not even going to ask why you're wearing all this. You are going to close your eyes and undress. Keep your underwear… or whatever you might be wearing underneath on- but I want your pants, top… and coat. Do this and I won't kill you, do you understand?"

Pinned against the wall, barely able to breathe, Chris was very aware that this woman- or whatever she was- was holding him up by the neck with one hand. She definitely meant business and if it meant closing his eyes and giving up some clothing to live, so be it, people get killed for less and Chris did not want to be one of those people. Squeezing his eyes shut, he was barely able to nod, let alone speak with his airway held in what felt like an iron grip.

* * *

Allowing the hairless man in his… _*eyeroll*_ red panties… to cower near a dumpster, Jane finished buttoning up the oddly comfortable leather pants before throwing on the black leather trench coat over the matching spaghetti-strap top she was now wearing. _'At least the theme is consistent…'_

Picking up the high heels by the straps like she had just pulled something rank out of a clogged bathtub drain, Jane took one more look at the mostly naked man working very hard to keep his eyes closed. Allowing the raised eyebrow to finally fall, she tossed the heels in his direction before looking down at her own bare feet. She wiggled her toes momentarily before letting out a practiced sigh. She'd have to find some boots. Preferably some kick-ass black boots with a steel toe. The irony of the thought was not lost on the cybernetic woman whose chassis was composed of Coltan and a small amount of titanium.

She walked out of the alley without another look back. It was highly unlikely that the apparent cross-dresser would be able to identify her or convince anyone of the events leading up to him losing his clothing; therefore there had been no need to kill him. Rationalizing not killing humans was something Jane had gotten used to. She felt it was important for some as-yet unfathomable reason that she **had** the ability to choose to kill, but could choose not to as well.

Jane began to list of objectives in her HUD in preparation for her assignment as she walked despite the sensory distraction of her feet being unused to walking on cold concrete. Pausing in her thoughts as she passed a window, she took a moment to absorb her badass leather-clad image in a storefront window.

'_Yeah, I totally need some sunglasses too.'_

End Chapter 1

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**A/N:** Wasn't really even going to post this until I had like 8 or 9 chapters done, but I thought I'd throw it out there and see if I didn't get run out of the fandom. This fic also kind of exists in the same world as an un-posted Sarah Connor Chronicles fic that I'm writing does so there may be questions raised in this one that might be more clearly answered in the other. If I can work that one out decently, these may cross paths sometime in the future. This still may get a re-edit and repost.

I actually had no idea how to go about setting up the second half of the chapter. I think it is terribly obvious that I don't know what I am talking about but I really wanted Jane to arrive naked in front of a cross-dressing male prostitute for some reason. Wish I could have made it work better or be a little funnier. I kinda got it in my head that a terminator should always arrive very close to one person that just happens to wear their size clothing. It's like a Terminator staple or something... at least in my head.

Thoughts? Or Skittles? I'll take either.


	2. Chapter 2 The Rizzoli's

**A/N:**_First off, a big thank you for any alerts and all reviews, even those that think Jane shouldn't be a terminator. **HBCarolyn** is already doing a Maura Cyborg fic (called "Badass"- "Are you my mother?" It's cute.) and I didn't really want to go that route for this. I wanted the challenge of fitting a terminator Jane into the R&I universe. ...to be honest, I probably bit off a bit more than I can chew, but I'm gonna give it a go._

_I'm tweaking some character ages and other things a bit to make things work the way I want to. You'll notice the other changes as you read. I'm kind of torn between how much I think ***needs*** to be explained and how much I want you to infer on your own. Ask if you are confused but so far, I DO actually have some things figured out so it is thus far ALL intentional… mostly… especially if you think it's genius. But the one thing people will no doubt pick up on... well, I haven't decided yet to be honest._

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Terminator Jane

Chapter 2: The Rizzoli's

The headline read: _17 Policemen Killed By Crazed Gunman._ 16 other people had died that night. Not just Officer Frank Rizzoli Sr. or his best friend, the gung-ho Detective Hal Vukovich. Hal went out in a blaze of glory, M-16 in his hands and all; Frank was just trying to protect his fellow officers when he was gunned down by a Terminator. They found his body protectively covering a rookie cop, the last brave act of a good cop and father of two. The rookie, Sean Cavanaugh, had survived his injuries.

It was twenty years later- to the day- and once again, Angela Rizzoli was at home alone (but for her furry canine companion Jo Friday) and drinking one single drink- the only drink she'd have that year- while she held the old LA Times article clipping in her hand in remembrance of the day she lost her husband. At least, that is what Frankie believed. He was such a good boy, but it wasn't just about the day her husband died; or later when Tommy… Angela had decided long ago to lump her sorrows into one day because she wouldn't be able to function if she took a separate day to remember them all- she could never tell him about the sister he never had; the daughter she never got to see grow up…

"_The baby can't come out until he gets here!"_

"_You have to push Mrs. Rizzoli. They need to come out now."_

"_What do you mean, 'they'?"_

"_Fraternal twins Mrs. Rizzoli, a boy and a girl, but we're getting alarming indications from the girl, her heartbeat is very faint."_

"_We didn't… he doesn't know… no, not a baby girl… save her!"_

Frankie walked into the kitchen to see his mother staring at the article again, her little ankle biter sitting on her lap. It had been a long day at the Academy and he was glad to be home. His mother's cooking was to die for although it looked like it would be leftovers for tonight. He knew what day it was. It was the anniversary of day they lost Dad; the day that changed everything- well, from what his mother told him as he was only one at the time.

"Ma, let me heat something up for you and we'll eat, ok?" He knew it was always a tough day for his mother and she had always been the tough one; the strong one; leading he and Tommy by example. Tommy did his best, as the oldest, but their Ma always had a strength about her that always made Frankie proud to be her son and want to take care of her for a change.

Angela wiped away a few tears and got up, letting Jo go off to do whatever it was she did when she wasn't looking for attention or food. "I'm ok. You set the table and I'll reheat some cannoli and gniocchi. I've got some salad in the fridge too- you should eat more greens you know? You wanna end up like Carla Tellucci's son Brian? You know I don't like to use the word fat, but that boy is at a very unhealthy weight…" Frankie rolled his eyes a bit and smiled. It was good to have his Ma back.

"Ma, are you sure about this? Me becoming a Cop, I mean. You know I want to do it but… well, it's all over, isn't it? Aren't we safe now?" Frankie had wanted to become a Cop like his father, but also because of his mother. Tommy had gone about the fight his own way and… now he was gone. Angela said they needed help, that the Connors would need everyone they could get and if they had someone on the force, it would be better.

"No one is ever safe, Frankie. We moved from Los Angeles to help create the network, not to get away from it all. Sarah Connor asked me to do this and this is what I do." She placed their now heated dishes at the table and sat down opposite her youngest son.

"I know Ma, but with the destruction of Cyberdine and the death of Connor and her son in that bank explosion four years ago, isn't it all over?"

Angela snorted. "You didn't get to know Sarah Connor. Who do you think helped her get to Mexico with a baby on the way? I'd have gone with her but for you and Tommy- that wasn't the life for you boys- hell, it isn't the life for her John, but that's what she chose. But- we had to do something. Sarah will be back one of these days I know it. Besides, you've seen the articles on the research that is going on here in Boston. This has been our home for fifteen years now, we've got friends here and we're keeping our guard up. We have to. No one knows what's coming Frankie, no one." She took a bite of the gniocchi and pushed the bowl of salad to Frankie with a side of mother's glare to go with it.

Frankie groaned and held back a smile at his mother's stubbornness. "You're right Ma, sorry."

Angela began between bites, not looking at Frankie. "It's not like I don't have enough to worry about with you becoming a cop. It was every other day with your father; I was wondering if today was the day that some-some criminal would shoot him or something." It was like she just wanted to get it off her chest so he just listened and continued eating- _pretending_ to eat the salad, anyway. He was slightly concerned about the utensils in her wildly gesticulating hands.

"But then that night happened. It changed everything. Sean Cavanaugh was such a nice young man, but when he told me in the hospital what he saw, how that thing moved; took bullets to its chest without flinching; the glowing red eye behind the sunglasses… and then meeting Sarah Connor. This is _right_ Frankie. We gotta fight because no one else will and right now, there are so few of us and the good Lord only knows what that devil-spawn machine is planning." She ended her speech with a quick sign of the cross and glance up to the ceiling. Frankie was impressed she didn't get tomato sauce or cottage cheese on her shirt.

"I know Ma, but we gotta be careful. You can't be suspecting everyone of being a terminator any more." Frankie felt that the conversation had gotten a little too serious and wanted to see his mother smile a bit.

"It was just that one time!" Angela could still be the frustrated Italian mother with the best of them. One could almost believe that they actually were a perfectly _normal_ Italian family living in the Boston suburb of Revere.

"Bill O'Reilly, Ma? Thank god for Cavanaugh keeping you in check during his book tour is all I can say."

Angela had the decency to blush. "He has those bluer than blue eyes. They can't be real." It was their banter that really kept Angela and Frank Jr. together. That they could still be mother and son amidst the constant danger and threat of Skynet looming on the horizon was all important to them. Thankfully, they hadn't seen trace of a terminator in years.

It was difficult, but not impossible, moving to Boston from Los Angeles as a single mother with two boys. Being the widow of a hero cop helped, along with the fact that Cavanaugh had also moved there. He and Angela had formed a strong friendship over the events of that night and their later meeting with Sarah Connor and the fallout that ensued. They decided it would be advantageous to get to somewhere that Cavanaugh could climb the ranks of the police force and help co-ordinate things they would need in their fight against the threat of the machines.

Cavanaugh had easily established himself at the Boston Police Department and was now a Lieutenant. Angela had started a small food catering service that kept the bills paid and a roof over the heads of her family…

* * *

She'd arrived in September 2004. She had very little to go on but a few names, dates and places from Connor. Said it would help her fit in. She might have scoffed, confident in her own abilities, but there seemed to be a wisdom to Connor that the female terminator did not understand. She certainly did not understand the humans of this time. She had to fight the urge to strangle everyone she saw who wasted food or other useful items. Her time in the Resistance had instilled in her a sense of appreciation it seemed. It was rather odd and analyzing her own thoughts and reactions consumed a considerable amount of her processes, along with wondering just how people could live so oblivious to such constant danger around them or around the world in general.

Her processes switched suddenly and played back a memory from when two of the resistance fighters in her unit got married. It had been just eight months after she had infiltrated southern California's resistance network and through skill and circumstance, Jane was already a ranked officer.

"_What's the point? We could all be dead tomorrow?"_

"_THAT's the point. We COULD all be dead tomorrow. Or, it could be that now they have something more to fight for."_

"_Like what?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Really? What more do they have to fight for than the survival of… our, you know, species."_

"_I dunno, love maybe? You never been attached to anyone, Tr-"_

"_You say that nickname and it's your balls."_

"_Noted Sarge… anyway, you know why we fight, but sometimes, there is something that makes it more personal somehow and that gives us just that little bit more we need… shit, you're making me feel like an idiot with that face. Are you messing with me?"_

"…_maybe, now shut up and drink your swill."_

Jane idly wondered if Skynet knew just what it was doing when it created her neural net processor. Were learned reactions, forming habits and random bits of data playback intentional or a side effect of something else? Each new question seemed to support her previous conclusions about her design that likened it more to a mad scientist pouring different coloured vials of liquid together in the hopes of creating something diabolically magnificent. Jane believed that Skynet did not exactly comprehend the endgame result of its own creative process. Skynet was more likely to conclude that A + B + C equalled ABC as opposed to D. Jane was definitely a D… or possibly a Z.

For four days Jane had meticulously (though inconspicuously) studied the Greater Boston area and its people. She used her wi-fi capabilities to confirm what her audio, visual and tactile sensors were telling her.

'_This Wikipedia thing will be useful…'_

One night at a junk yard with some tools she 'acquired', she was able to cobble together a working 1986 Honda Rebel she found in mostly decent condition. The front struts had been bent horribly out of shape indicating a head on impact, but it wasn't too difficult for her to bend them back into reasonable shape and find a replacement tire. Only one strut needed to be fully replaced, which she was able to do.

She'd also been able to tick a number of things off her 'To Do' list and even update her 'To Terminate' list- _seriously, Paris Hilton being terminated would be a service to mankind. Unless there was some way to use her against Skynet… hmm, no, unleashing her upon Skynet would be just cruel. _

Climbing onto her black motorbike, leather boots, sunglasses and all, Jane decided it was time to go meet the Rizzoli's.

* * *

The knock at the door interrupted Frankie Rizzoli's explanation as to just why the Red Sox were not only still in the battle for the division or at least the Wild Card, but that this year- this, would be the year they lifted the "Curse of the Bambino". He was positive… well, he was hopeful… who was he kidding, the Sox were cursed for life. They'd never win the World Series in his lifetime and once Judgement Day came, they never would.

At Frankie's sceptical glance at the door, Angela's smile immediately dropped from her face. She'd have teased him about a girl coming over but that was usually accompanied by Frankie trying to butter her up at least a day prior. It seemed no girl was quite good enough for her baby boy. Then again, it would be difficult to allow anyone truly into their lives without putting them in danger.

Angela dropped her hands by her feet and pulled the shotgun from its place secured to the bottom of the couch. Frankie unhooked the Glock 17C pistol attached beneath the end table and stood up, motioning for his mother to move out of line-of-sight of the door as he made his way to the window to see who knocked. Angela stood at the corner to the kitchen and peered around the corner to cover Frankie and the door. She pumped the first round into the shotgun.

* * *

Outside the door, unseen to both its occupants, Jane quirked a brow beneath her Oakley mini aviators and smirked slightly at the sound of a loading shotgun on her 344 degree radial at a distance of 15.8 ft and the soft foot falls approaching the door with trained precision. There were two strong heartbeats, slightly elevated, but not high. She was impressed- the Rizzolis were at least on their guard and relatively calm. Not that it would have helped them had she been here to terminate them, but it was impressive anyway. She shut down her advanced tactical programs and senses. She hated using them, in truth. Somehow, to her, the bulk of her advantages over a normal human felt like a crutch that terminators leaned on far too often. But now was not the time for cyborg philosophical thinking, it was time to get whatever life she was about to lead started.

* * *

Frankie moved the window curtain by the door slightly with the muzzle of his pistol and peered out. Briefly thinking about pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming the leather-clad image of feminine badassery on their doorstep, he asked, "Who is it?"

Now Jane took off her sunglasses, held her hands up in a placating manner and looked directly at Frankie with a smirk, "I'm your new big sister, courtesy of John Connor."

End Chapter 2

* * *

**A/N:** _The characters will seem out of character (OOC- took me a long time to figure that out from other author's notes when I first started reading fanfiction) but I'm going to try and keep some of the traits we know and love._


End file.
